Coffee, Anyone?

Spotted on one of our Jeepin' trips earlier this summer. Read the words on the building...


"Would you like a plunger with that Double Skinny White Mocha?"

"No thanks... maybe a Screwdriver, though?"

Only in small town America. I love it!

Kids 'n' Cows

Why do kids gravitate toward cows like mosquitoes to sugar water? I knew I’d have to get used to cows again when we bought a home in the country but I didn’t think about how much they would occupy space in our kids’ brains!

Did I like cows that much when I was little? Because if I did, it had totally worn off by the time I’m old enough to remember! I hated opening gates (until we got all the cattle guards). I hated having cows freak out when I would drive down the lane and run into the road when they hadn’t been anywhere near it, kicking and splattering the fresh crap that was smeared all over their rear-ends. I hated when they wouldn’t run, when they would just stand in the middle of the road and I’d have to nudge them with my car and honk my horn just to get them to twitch an ear.

We had cows when I was growing up. We raised them for our own beef. We even had our own milk cow once. We cut our own hay to feed during winter, we branded, we castrated. I even helped pull a newborn calf once and helped to get it breathing when nature said he should’ve died quite awhile sooner.

I don’t totally loathe cows. I love a good steak and hunk o’ cheese. But I don’t understand the constant fascination with having to look at them and make them the center of every conversation. From the moment the kids wake up until they go to sleep, it’s “Look, Mommy, cows.” “Cows, Mommy!” “I want to see the cows, Mommy!” It’s kind of hard NOT to see cows when they’re standing 30 yards from the living room windows at any given time.

Enough with the cows already! It’s warm enough outside to permeate the air with the scent of fresh fertilizer and I’m not feeling very friendly toward the bovine species right now.

But don't they make for some dang cute pictures?!

3:14 p.m.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY BROTHER!

Here he is when he was so cute and tiny, smelling that wonderful baby smell, and I was able to hold him and rock him and cuddle him and call him George... oops, I never called him George! I think this picture was taken within his first week or two at home when I was just over a month shy of being a four-year-old.


This picture was taken at my wedding a few short years ago... my, how he's grown! But he's still cute and loveable (most of the time!).

I love you, S. And though you say this is just another day to you, it's the day for those of us who love you to celebrate your birth into this earthly world and your physical entrance into our lives.

Earthly Farewell

God our Father,
Your power brings us to birth,
Your providence guides our lives,
and by Your command we return to dust.

Lord, those who die still live in Your presence,
their lives change but do not end.
I pray in hope for my family,
relatives and friends,
and for all the dead known to You alone.

In company with Christ,
Who died and now lives,
may they rejoice in Your kingdom,
where all our tears are wiped away.
Unite us together again in one family,
to sing Your praise forever and ever.

Amen.

Yesterday we celebrated (or acknowledged) the day he was born. This morning, we said goodbye in his earthly death. Gil's uncle, M, was more like a father and older brother to him since his own father was killed in a work accident when he was just a toddler. His mom moved back to her hometown and her parents and brother had a huge hand in raising Gil. It was with much sadness that a short couple of years ago, we unexpectedly had to say goodbye to Gil's grandpa until we are reunited with him in heaven. Now, we say goodbye to his uncle.

After Grandpa's death, M quit his job and moved back to his hometown to take care of his mother. He'd been having some back pain for awhile and just kind of took a break before looking for a new job while he rested from his many years of working so hard. About a year after Grandpa's death, M finally went to the doctor and got the dreaded diagnosis: Cancer. Stage IV. Metastases. Ugly words. He had colon cancer that had already spread to his liver and lungs. Sixteen and a half months later, he succumbed to the inevitable. He's now in heaven where I'm sure he's already playing a round of golf with Grandpa and Jesus.

We love and miss you, M. May you rest in eternal peace.

Waiting Room Encounters

During our first big Jeep ride with the kidlets at the end of May (I love our Wrangler… all 3 carseats/boosters can fit across the back seat!), my husband injured his back from the routine motion of lifting the littlest up and into the back seat. Gil’s disability from the Army is due to issues related to his back and knees so he’s been injured before, which seems to always lend itself toward future injuries. I ended up driving home that day… and when he got progressively worse through the night, I bundled the kids up the next morning, called in to take the day off, and drove my husband to the nearest VA clinic.

I just love working with the VA (not). I really think the health care given to our service members and vets should be much better than it is, but it’s just like any other government-run operation. Slow and with too many hoops to jump through. We should’ve just gone to the ER but we’re of the mindset that unless you can’t breathe or have a severed appendage, you’re wasting the ER’s valuable resources. Anyway, not to get off subject...

We went to the VA. And sat there all day. With 3 little kids. Oh! The unspeakable joy!!

(The above is not an actual picture of our VA waiting room but is pretty darn close.
It's a good thing I'm learning how to be a prepared mom and had crayons, paper, books and even some snacks in my purse!)

Waiting rooms are never fun but in a VA waiting room, we’re often the oddballs… we’re so much younger than many of the older vets who receive their care there. I was left alone in between Gil’s many trips into the exam room (once for a supposed colonoscopy – oops! Wrong patient!) and people always seem to let the conversation flow when I’m alone. First up was a middle-aged woman, looking a little worse for wear…

“Are those your kids?”

Yes.

“Are they triplets?”

No, they’re ages 2, 3 and 4.

“Wow! Don’t you know what causes that?!”

Excuse me?

And then there was a guy, after also asking the above questions…

“2, 3 and 4? Where’s the one year old?”

I think I was caught off guard and probably with my mouth slightly agape.

“Are you working on that?”

Always.

“Oh well, you’re good then!” And he laughs as walks out the door, exclaiming about how cute and well-behaved my children are.

When I’m with Gil, people never assume our children are our biologic children because, honestly, how could two obviously light-skinned people have three dark children? But when I’m by myself, no one ever assumes that they’re NOT biologic. Upon learning they are not triplets or even twins and a single, they always give me the shocked look and exclaim about them being so close together in age and ask me what in the world was I thinking. Like I had a choice. Like I would’ve had a choice even if they were biologic! The miracle of life is in God’s hands, not mine!

And my children are a miracle, no matter how they came into our lives.

I'm baaa-ack!

Happy July!

Yes, I've been extremely remiss in posting on my blog lately. What? Only one post in June? What the heck? Do I have any readers left?!!

I vow to try and be better about updating... as a matter of fact, I currently have three separate posts in the works and even pictures to go with one of them AND at least one more post idea. But until I get them posted, I will leave you with this link to visit a friend's blog about what not to say or ask adoptive moms.

Fake Kids: Real Moms

It's interesting that as we've moved from one aspect of our journey to have children to another, we will still be questioned about our route to parenthood. When we were IF with no kids, we got asked all the time, "When will you have kids?" "Why don't you just do IVF?" "Why don't you just adopt?" "What does that (IVF or adoption) cost?" "Why don't you just accept that God doesn't intend you to be parents and move on?"

Now that we have kids (and are still IF), we have a whole 'nother gamut of questions... "Are those your real kids?" is probably the most popular right now.

They may not be legal yet but, yes, they are my kids and, yes, they are real. 'Nuff said.

For My Daddy

Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love you!